


Memories of You

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, F/M, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Supernatural - Freeform, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-06
Updated: 2011-07-23
Packaged: 2018-09-30 10:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10160903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: The war is over, and now it's time for everyone to move on, but how can Harry do so when he's just found out what Snape means to him?This is a Dark!Fic which was written for NaNoWriMo this past November.  Two people died in the making of this fic, and both of them have red hair.  M & I completed over 100,000 words and still have much to write.  We hope to edit and post a chapter every Sunday.This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.





	1. Chapter 1 - Snape's Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

The hot summer breeze offered little relief to the group gathered around the open casket. Their dress robes weighed down upon them and only Malfoy seemed unaffected. Harry couldn't help looking at him again and again and wondering how he did it. He looked back at the casket. Snape was in there, dead, gone forever. Why did that weigh down on him so heavily?

Hermione walked up to Harry and took his hand. "How are you holding up?" she asked him quietly.

Harry shrugged. It was hard. For some reason he couldn't let go. He thought the funeral would help, but even seeing Snape's body, lifeless as it was, he couldn't believe that this man was dead. This man who he'd hated and failed to trust so unjustly. This man who had saved him. He shook his head. He wouldn't cry. At least he hoped he wouldn't but the tears were threatening.

"I'm fine. Could it be any hotter?" It was a blessing that Ginny and Ron had decided not to attend the funeral. At least he didn't have to deal with them. Ron had such a rotten opinion of Snape even now and Ginny... She wanted to get back together now that the war was over, now that it was safe. Harry had meant for them to do that if he'd lived but he hadn't realized how he would change.

"It is hot," Hermione agreed. "I wonder if this is just a prelude to the coming fall?" She looked around and glanced Malfoy. "How does he do it?" she whispered. "Look so composed and... not sweaty."

Harry shook his head. "It must be a Malfoy thing, or a pureblood thing."

Everyone was being invited to pay their final respects. Harry hung back and soon he found himself near Malfoy as well as Hermione. Malfoy appeared to be hanging back as well.

"Granger," Malfoy nodded at Hermione. "Potter," he nodded at Harry as well, then he stood there, evidently waiting for them to go ahead of him.

Hermione looked at Harry, then back to Malfoy. "Malfoy," she said amiably enough. Then she moved forward and glanced down at Snape. She took several deep breaths, and stared inside. When she turned away, tears were streaming down her face and without another glance at Harry, she was leaving the area. She walked just enough away that others could move forward and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping her eyes with it.

It was him or Malfoy and Malfoy seemed every bit as determined to go last as Harry was. Well, he probably had more right. Hadn't he known Snape better, being Slytherin and all? Harry stepped forward and looked down at the man who was gone forever. He would never be able to talk to Snape about his mother, or Snape's decision to turn his back on Voldemort. He would never be able to know the side of Snape that could love. He would never be able to ask him why. There were so many why's. The biggest of which was why he was dead.

Harry stared at the creased face. The lines on it were much more faint now but he could still see them. Lines across his forehead from years upon years of worry. Lines leading down from the corners of his lips from frowning. What would a smile look like on Severus Snape's face? He would never know.

I need to let him rest now, Harry thought. The war is over and he can finally stop worrying, stop being sad. Maybe he is even with my mother now. Yet that was unlikely to make Snape happy. Harry's father would almost certainly be there to. Something deep inside of Harry ached. He wanted to give all of the happiness he'd ever had to this man. What good would that do? How did you give happiness to a dead man anyhow? Harry leaned close. Severus Snape was dead. He was never coming back.

"Come back," Harry whispered very, very softly. For a moment he thought he saw an eyelash move but it was just the hot summer breeze flowing across Snape for the very last time ever. The tears finally fell and in his heart Harry said goodbye and moved on.

As he moved away, he saw two Ministry employee's standing just beyond Snape. Hermione was several paces further, still wiping at her face. When he got near, one of the Ministry gentlemen spoke. "Harry Potter?" he said.

Harry blinked away the tears but his eyes blurred again almost immediately. He wiped at them with the sleeve of his dress robes. What were these people doing here, at Snape's funeral? Even as he wondered Harry knew. He'd been dodging them all week. They wanted him, in the Ministry, safely under control. "Yes?"

"We're sorry to bother you at such a time, but we have a few questions we'd like to ask," the one who had already spoken said.

The other nodded his head. "We have been trying for some time to get in touch with you," he said. "The Ministry is very interested in having you join their Auror programme."

"I haven't made any plans yet." Harry had wanted to be an Auror, maybe he still did, but the way the Ministry was pursuing him just bothered him. His eyes moved past them to Hermione, then he glanced back to see Malfoy bending close to the casket and murmuring softly. His hand was on Snape's. Harry wondered how that would feel. Totally wrong he was sure. Yet there was something touching about the gesture and something totally not touching about the gathered Aurors.

"Perhaps you should start making some," the first Auror suggested.

"Our programme will take you through everything you need to become an Auror and in less than two years you can be in the field. The training is paid of course," the second Auror said. "Please, the Ministry would very much like to have your input for the changes to come."

Harry stared at them, took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. He wanted to tell them to go to Hell, but not here, not at Snape's funeral. "Look, I'll think it over all right. Just at the moment I'm watching a very brave man who died far too early..." Harry stopped, because his throat constricted then and he had nearly sobbed. He never wanted anyone to hear him do that, most especially these men.

"We understand this is a bad time," the first Auror said. "But Mr. Potter, you've been avoiding us for the past week. Unfortunately we felt the need to come out and look for you."

"Please believe us when we say we don't want to interrupt your mourning," the second Auror said, reaching out a hand. "If you would simply give us an answer, or consider our offer."

Before Harry could get anything else out a cool, cultured voice spoke from behind him, Malfoy. "I hadn't realized how far the Ministry had fallen. Persistent as ever I see, but bereft of class."

Harry glanced back to see the composed face issuing the words. His eyes were slightly red rimmed but beyond that he seemed the picture of propriety.

The first Auror held his head up high. "Mr. Malfoy, it's very nice to see you today. I heard you were heading back into school this coming year. Congratulations."

The second Auror crossed his arms. "I don't think you could possibly understand what is going on here. Beyond that, I don't believe it is any of your business."

"If it is none of my business gentlemen then perhaps you'll see fit to clear off. This is a funeral not a private home." Malfoy put a gentle but firm hand on Harry's upper arm. "Come along Potter, they are about to seal the casket." He nodded to the Auror's, "Please leave, or I will report you to whoever is left in the Ministry with a shred of decency and compassion. Though I see that it might take some time to locate anyone of the sort."

Harry allowed himself to be led away, with a glance back and a shake of his head. He hoped they wouldn't try to follow. Both Auror's had their arms crossed, and they were watching the two of them walk away without saying a word.

Hermione was at their side a moment later, nodding at Malfoy. "Malfoy," she said, dabbing at her eyes again. "How... um... are you?" she finished hesitantly.

Malfoy shook his head, his lips tight. "Appalled, though I don't know if you could understand." He looked at Harry and Harry saw something in his grey eyes that was meaningful. Yet even as he caught sight of it it slipped away. It had been a moment of raw honesty and in that moment Harry had seen a reflection of his own emotions. A part of him hated how quickly it had slipped past and another part was glad. He didn't want to face those feelings he had, the ones he'd seen there. "You'll want to keep track of Potter." He released Harry's arm and began to slip away.

"Malfoy!" Hermione said, reaching out a hand and touching his arm. "Please, don't hurry off. I mean..." she looked around. "I mean... well, you don't have to, you know?" She glanced at Harry. "Right Harry? You two aren't... you aren't enemies anymore, right?" She seemed so uncertain, yet certain that she didn't want him to leave.

Harry shook his head immediately. "No, we aren't."

Malfoy lowered his voice. "What about all of the things I've done to deserve your hate? You don't expect me to believe that all of that is forgotten."

Harry thought of the past, of all the time he'd spent hating Malfoy, watching him, expecting the worst from him. "That was us mistaking rivalry for hate." He wouldn't forget it. How could he? "It isn't something you forget. It's something you learn from."

"Malfoy, we've each... deserved the hate we gave. You know, you were really brave, several times, to us... during... the war, and..." Hermione twisted her hands together a few times, and then took a breath, stood tall and looked him right in the eyes. "You saved our lives, and we saved yours, and it was all so we could learn that we don't hate each other. Rivalry is good, but hate isn't. I don't want to hate you, and I don't want you to hate us. I'd like to be friends."

Malfoy tilted his head as if curious about a strange development in his cauldron or a bit of new information on the workings of an intricate spell.

"From this day forth we will honor not just the deeds but the man himself in our hearts and minds. So long as we do, a part of him will always linger at our sides." As the words were said the casket was sealed.

Malfoy had turned back to watch the sealing, his face a pale mask of indifference. His lower lip trembled. Harry looked at the ground. The assurance that they could keep a bit of Snape with them seemed utterly ridiculous at that moment. He imagined the man berating him for the rest of his life, always there to tell him what a dunderhead he was. No, not especially appealing. Yet on the other hand could that be the reason he was having so much trouble accepting Snape as dead?

The casket was lifted and carried into the mausoleum where it would be placed in it's proper slot with all of the other dead heroes from the final battle. His body would be in good company, Harry thought as they all followed the casket to watch the final moments of the funeral. Some people were already leaving, but many did not.

"I don't know if we can be friends," Malfoy was saying softly to Hermione as they walked. "I believe there is some sort of written law against Slytherin and Gryffindors getting along at all."

"Professor Snape didn't feel that way," she said softly. Somehow, she moved between Harry and Malfoy and linked arms with Harry. Then she looked at Malfoy, paused for a moment, and touched his arm. "Malfoy, trust doesn't come easy with us. With all of us. It's been several long years and we've fought more than anyone else. That doesn't mean we have to allow other people to dictate whether or not we are capable of getting along."

There was a long silence. Harry glanced at Malfoy and saw that he was thinking, at least that's how it looked. They stopped pretty far into the woven passages of the mausoleum. Finally, after the casket had been settled into it's permanent resting place, Malfoy spoke.

"If you truly wish to be friends Granger, I will try but I cannot make any promises."

Hermione nodded. "I didn't ask for promises. I know better than that." She looked up at him. "Thank you Malfoy."

He nodded. Harry looked at the blank marker for Snape's place. It would be a while before he had one properly etched. Who would be in charge of deciding what it said? Harry looked around at the people who had shown up. Who here was special enough to Snape that he had left everything to them?

"I need some fresh air." Harry pulled away from Hermione a bit though he wasn't really trying to escape her. He just felt crowded in all of a sudden and wanted to be outside where he could breath.

Hermione turned to him and nodded. "I want to stay another moment Harry, is it alright?" She looked at Malfoy. "Are you staying?"

Harry felt Malfoy's eyes on him but then he nodded. "Yes, just for a bit."

He left the mausoleum at a fast walk and as soon as he was out of it, he crumpled to the ground near the wall, wrapping his arms around his legs and trying not to cry. He assured several witches that he was fine when they asked and the rest of the people left him to himself. Who had Snape had? The ghost of Harry's mother? Dumbledore? Malfoy?

Harry put his head down on his knees and waited for the tears to clear away as he wondered what it would be like to be that lonely? Why would anyone distance themselves in that way? If he hadn't had his friends, Ron and Hermione and all the others, where would he have been at the end of the war?

He wasn't certain how long he sat there when an owl landed on his shoulder and hooted into his ear. Harry blinked and lifted his head, wiping away more tears that he didn't want to shed. The owl was a conservative type, standard brown but official looking. The Ministry again? Harry took the message off it's leg and offered it an owl treat.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice came from several feet away. "How are you feeling?"

The seal said Mucks, Bergan and Shore. Harry looked up at Hermione. "Fine, I just got an owl." He probably didn't look very fine, backed against the wall like that. There wasn't much he could do about it now. "You?"

She was shaking, but she gave him a small smile. "Not well. I think I'm going to cry again." She cleared her throat. "What does the owl want?"

Harry patted the ground next to him. "Not sure yet." 

Hermione sat down and leaned her head against the wall.

He broke the seal and looked at the scroll. It was written in officialese, so it took a while for him to sort out what it said. Then he didn't believe what it said. He removed the keys that were stuck to the bottom of it shaking his head.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Hermione glanced over at him when the keys jingled. "What is it Harry?" she asked softly.

"It's... I... Snape, he..." It was impossible but even as his eyes slipped over the words again Harry knew that it was true. For whatever reason Snape had really done it. "I'm his sole heir. He's given everything to me." Harry shook his head feeling more lost then ever somehow.

"He what?" Hermione breathed. She glanced at the papers. "You're his sole heir? Seriously?"

"He had a house and two bank vaults. These are the keys to one vault and the house. Evidently he never gave over a key for the other vault to the lawyers. It also says I'm supposed to destroy any memory vials I find in the house." Harry shook his head. "Why would he have memory vials in his house?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe they're things that are really private, or maybe they're from other people? Why would he keep them around if he didn't want them to be kept? You would think he'd destroy them himself."

"Wouldn't you?" The owl hooted in Harry's ear again and he shook his head. "Go on back." It launched and was gone in a moment. How was he going to do this? Why had Snape even though he could? He looked back at the letter, rereading one passage in particular. _I imagine that you will want to sell off the rest and close the vaults once the memories have been destroyed. That will be completely understandable._ "Do you think maybe you and Ron could come and help me look over the property in a few days, like Thursday? It seems he's left everything up to me."

"Sure," she nodded. "I don't see why not. I'll speak with him tonight. Any particular time or do you want to meet at the Burrow?"

Harry agreed to meet at the Burrow and they chatted quietly until both felt far enough from tears to safely apparate. Still Malfoy had not emerged from the mausoleum and as the two of them left Harry had to wonder why Snape hadn't chosen Malfoy as his heir or some other Slytherin. Was it his attachment to Harry's mother? Harry shook his head and considered the plaque for Snape's passing. Perhaps it should say _Here lies the most complex and stubborn man to ever live. None of us will truly be able to believe he has died, ever._ Yes, perhaps it should.


	2. Chapter 2 - Azkaban

_Author's Note: We were mistaken in the number of characters which died during the making of this story. There were actually three._

 

The trial for Narcissa Malfoy concluded, Harry went directly to Hermione and Malfoy. He had been glad to testify on her behalf. If only he could have kept her out of Azkaban all together, but that had been impossible and the blame was entirely on the Ministry. How could they expect him to want to be part of that?

"Harry," Hermione looked up at him. "Where is Mrs. Malfoy? Is she still in Azkaban?"

"That's something I think we had better check on personally. Unless you know," Harry looked at Draco who shook his head.

"I would like to thank you for everything you did for her today." Draco stood quickly, "If you're going to check on her I'll come too."

Harry nodded and looked at Hermione. "I thought Ron might come."

Hermione shook her head. "He..." she licked her lips and stood. "He didn't want to come today, said he didn't feel well." Harry could tell she was hiding something.

"You don't have to hide things on my account," Malfoy said briskly, looking at Hermione. "I know how Weasleys feel about Malfoys. It's practically in our blood. In fact it might be."

"It is not," she snapped. "There is nothing that says Malfoys and Weasleys can't get along. It just might take a little while to get there." Her face had colored slightly, little dots of red popping out on her cheeks. "And I'm not hiding things. He did say he wasn't feeling well." Harry had a feeling it was more that Ron said he wouldn't feel well, if he had to see Malfoy.

Harry figured it was a silly thing to dwell on though. Besides, everyone didn't have to get along. Hermione thought they should but Harry had other opinions. "Let's go. I don't like that she couldn't be here at her own trial. I think it's going to be good you're with us Malfoy." The courtroom was pretty much cleared out as he led the two of them to the nearest apparation zone.

Hermione gently reached for his hand and then held out hers to Malfoy. "Unless you'd like to apparate separately?"

Malfoy looked at Hermione very closely. "I should." He took her hand however with raised eyebrows. It was as if he expected her to pull back at any moment.

She gave him a small smile and then looked at Harry. "You or me?"

"Go ahead." There was something there between Malfoy and Hermione, Harry thought. She and Ron had been so close lately but he could see that Hermione was interested, maybe in a way that actually should disturb Ron. He shook his head. He was probably reading too much into it but he did notice the small smile on Malfoy's face as he held Hermione's hand.

Hermione's apparation was smooth, proof once more that she was one of the best witches of their age. They lightly touched down on the ground in the apparation zone, and Hermione let go of Harry's hand right away, opening her fingers to Malfoy more slowly.

Malfoy's hand seemed to caress hers as it slipped away. Harry shook his head, or maybe he wasn't imagining things. "So, we go up this way." Azkaban was a depressing place, Dementors or not and there were still Dementors. It was a long climb up a steep stairwell to the front doors of the rocky fortress like structure. Harry led and Malfoy lingered so that he would be climbing behind Hermione.

"I hope she's alright," Hermione whispered.

Harry glanced back and nodded. Whatever was going on he wasn't leaving until he got to the bottom of it. Behind Hermione, Malfoy seemed to be climbing easily, his hands at his side as he did so. His eyes focused on Hermione, as if he was studying her. He didn't seem particularly focused on any one part of her, more the full picture and his expression was thoughtful. Harry turned back to watch the path. He needed to talk to Hermione about this but not around Ron. He felt a pang of jealousy but it really was silly. He had Ginny, didn't he?

At the doors he spoke with the human guards who allowed them entry. Inside the small waiting room he spoke to an Auror. "We've just come from Narcissa Malfoy's trial and we're here to pick her up. She's been released. I'm sure you've received notice."

The woman stared at him. "Of course, however she is too ill to be moved. You will have to come back when she is out of the medical ward."

"If she's ill why isn't she in St. Mungo's?" Malfoy moved forward next to Hermione.

"There was no clearance."

"Surely there's clearance now?" Hermione said, her arms crossing. "She must be in a separate ward, right? Mrs. Malfoy can't be around the Dementors anymore, am I right?" Her eyes were hard as she looked at the lady.

"The order for release has only just come in and it's in her best interest that she not be moved. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is." The woman seemed increasingly agitated and her attitude implied that they were bothering her unnecessarily.

"We would like to see her then." Harry looked to Malfoy, concerned. He was right and so was Hermione. If she was ill this was the last place for her.

"Right away," Hermione said, her eyes still hard. She stepped up to the lady and looked as though she was ready to walk right through her to get to Mrs. Malfoy.

"No!" The woman looked quite startled, then she calmed. "No, I'm sorry, at this point I can only allow family in to visit."

"Then you should have no problem giving me entry." Malfoy held her eyes with a steady gaze. "I'm her son."

The woman's eyes widened a bit. "Yes. Yes, of course. I'll have to get the proper paperwork." She turned away.

"This seems more than a little strange Malfoy," Hermione said. She placed a hand on his arm. "I hope everything is alright."

"So do I. Last time I visited she wasn't looking well. They ran me around for hours before I finally spoke to a Healer. He said that it was a minor sickness and she should be fine in a few days. That was only three days ago." His face was grim.

The Auror returned and handed a thick packet of forms to Malfoy. "Just fill those out and we'll have you in to see her."

Hermione turned to the lady and her eyes were fierce. "I don't think so. He is her son, that stack of papers could take him hours to fill out and he was just in three days ago. I know he doesn't have to do all of that in order to see his mother. If you push this, believe me, I will find a way in that takes less time."

The woman's eyebrows crawled up her forehead and appeared to be attempting to escape into her hair line. Harry rather agreed with Hermione. He glanced at the papers which Malfoy was examining carefully his brow lightly creased.

"Some of these are release papers," Malfoy said softly, "some for identification. They give those to me every time." Then his face went white. He held up a paper. "What is this?"

Malfoy was clearly asking the Auror but Harry looked as well. The heading read Treatment of Deceased. Harry looked at the Auror. It couldn't be. His heart sped, but if she was dead there was little they could do.

Hermione had looked as well, and her face went beet red. "Explain this now," she growled. She walked closer to the woman. "There better be a really good explanation, or I'm going to be taking things up with the Ministry right away."

"Narcissa Malfoy is ill." The woman stood tall. "It is simply a form which needs to be filled out in case of the worst possible outcome. That is all." She narrowed her eyes at Hermione. "You should be very careful. The Ministry will back me up on this completely. All I'm doing is my job."

Draco was filling out the identification forms as quickly as he could. Harry shook his head. "Whether it's your job or not, you could use a bit of common sense. He needs to see his mother who you've said is sick, not dead. I don't see why he needs to fill out that type of form to see her."

"If she is ill, whether or not she was released, according to Ministry decree, any prisoner of war is granted access to all of St. Mungo's treatments and facilities. If she has been seen by a St. Mungo's professional, and deemed in a state that that form is necessary, then she should be out of Azkaban. I'd like to speak to the Healer who saw her." Hermione continued to stand firm. "I know the Ministry laws regarding Prisoners of War Ma'am. Don't make me quote them."

"What is your name?" The woman scowled at Hermione.

"Miss Hermione Granger, and yours?" Hermione held the gaze assuredly.

"Auror Hensley. I will arrange for you to speak with the Healer." She began to turn away but Draco held out some forms to stop her.

"While you're at it take these back. This should be enough to get me in to see my mother."

Once the woman was gone Harry turned to Hermione. "What do you think is happening?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, but I do know this. She made me press her, and hearing my name meant something to her. What it meant, I don't know. But if anything has happened to Mrs. Malfoy, you can guarantee that I'm not going to rest until it's properly taken care of." Her voice was hard steel.

"I think they're trying to cover up some sort of error." Malfoy's voice was soft and unsteady. "I... I just hope she's still..." he fell silent, shaking his head.

"Oh, Malfoy," Hermione said, turning to him and reaching out her hands. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to seem so brash." She didn't quite touch him, but her hands hovered just within his reach.

Malfoy shook his head and closed his eyes. When he opened them they were clear and calm. It occurred to Harry that it was actually bad for Malfoy not to cry. He was pulling all of his emotions inside and wouldn't that eventually do terrible things to him?

"You didn't. Don't worry about me. There's no reason to." For all the world he looked perfectly poised now and it wasn't as admirable as it had been at the funeral. Now it seemed sort of frightening in contrast to his panic just moments before.

Hermione watched him for several moments, then she nodded. "Alright," she said, but there was a thoughtful look in her eyes that stated flat out this conversation wasn't over yet. She crossed her arms and turned away from both of them, looking in the direction that Auror Hensley had gone.

Harry knew that look, even if Malfoy didn't. When the woman returned she had another Auror with her. He was an older man with a grey speckled beard. There was no Healer in sight.

"Hello Mr. Potter, Miss Granger," his eyes settled on Malfoy, "and Mr. Malfoy. Interesting. Do come in. I think we should talk somewhere more comfortable."

"I think the comfort of Mrs. Malfoy is of the utmost concern to all of us." Hermione held out her hand. "It is nice to meet you Mr.?"

"Avery," the man shook her hand. "Yes, I've heard that you wanted to see to her comfort and we'll get to that straight away of course. First however, please join me in the meeting room. We must talk." 

Harry remembered the name Avery. There had been an Avery Jr., a Death Eater, at least he felt like there had been. He didn't like the association, but he tried not to judge this man based on that memory.

“Yes we do, Hermione nodded. “But we’re not going to be shuffled off to a meeting room until we know what’s going on with Mrs. Malfoy,” she said firmly, crossing her arms.

There was no opportunity for a reply however as Malfoy immediately said, "I want to see my mother, why is that so difficult to arrange?" 

"Your mother has had a severe turn in her health and the staff is involved with arranging a transfer for her to St. Mungo's. Unfortunately, this all began about an hour ago and so your arrival met with some misunderstandings. The full staff isn't aware of everything. Now, if you would all follow me, we can discuss any concerns you might have. Or, you are free to go meet her at St. Mungos." He looked at each of them in turn as he said this.

Hermione met his eyes firmly. "I'd like to discuss concerns, but I think that Mr. Malfoy at the very least should get to see his mother. I also think that Mr. Potter should be allowed to go. As his was the chief testimony that freed her, I believe that he has earned the right to tell her about her freedom. If that is alright with Mr. Malfoy, of course," she looked at Malfoy briefly when she said that.

He inclined his head in agreement. Harry nodded as well but he was reluctant to leave Hermione alone with the man. "You're sure you want to stay?"

She nodded as she turned back to Avery. "Yes, I do. There are several things I'd like to ask."

"Potter, I'd rather not linger," Malfoy said, already walking.

Harry nodded and followed. This time they took the stairs at a jog and there was no talk about apparating together. They arrived at St. Mungo's pretty much at the same time and Malfoy rushed to the admission desk.

"My mother should be here. Narcissa Malfoy."

The lady at the desk looked up at him and then back down to rifle through some scrolls. "Narcissa Malfoy? From Azkaban right?"

"Yes, that's right. She's been released but... can we see her?" 

Harry had never seen Malfoy so emotional, so out of control. He supposed it was a side effect of trying to control himself all of the time.

"You're Draco Malfoy, yes?" She looked over at Harry. "And... Harry Potter?"

Once again he needed no introduction. Well, if it got them special treatment this time Harry wouldn't complain.

"Yes," Draco's hands gripped the ledge in front of him so hard that his knuckles were white.

She looked to Draco again. "She's in the critical ward. Healer Edge is with her right now. You can go to see her, but please remember that she is not well and you need to remain calm when you're with her. She's in room C45."

As panic rose in Harry, Malfoy seemed to recover completely from his own. The critical ward. Could it really be that bad? Though he'd known she was ill and had taken a turn for the worse, he had never expected her condition to be critical.

"Of course." Malfoy released the ledge and stood tall, straight backed. "Where will I find C45?"

Soon they were at the proper room. As Malfoy opened the door Harry saw Narcissa Malfoy lying in a hospital bed, eyes closed, breathing deeply. To each of her sides stood a Healer. Their eyes were closed as well but they had their wands pointed at her heart and all of their attention seemed to be on the magic they were working. The two chanted softly as a Healer looked over and put a finger to her lips.

"Please, stay silent. They must not be disturbed. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter, correct?"

They nodded. Malfoy moved a bit closer staring at his mum's form, his eyes desperate. He did not speak, nor did he come close enough to distract the wizards. The nurse let him go, not saying anything more. The Wizards held their wands for several moments, and then lowered them falling silent. They glanced at each other and shook their heads.

The one furthest from them stood up straight and walked around the bed, holding out his hand. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm Healer Edge, in charge of your mother."

Malfoy shook the offered hand. "Please, tell me what's happening." His eyes returned to his mother.

Harry moved a bit closer as well. The way the men shook their heads hadn't been encouraging. Surely there was something more they could do. There must be a million treatments which could be tried, that's what he told himself at least as he waited.

"Your mother is dying," he said calmly. "I'm very sorry, there's no other way to say it. She was simply in Azkaban for too long. Her body was frail to begin with, then she caught a simple cold. The weight of the Dementors made it progress much further, much more quickly than expected." He placed a hand on Malfoy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, there's nothing more we can do. We've got her under several heating spells and we've bolstered many of her internal organs to keep her alive, but frankly, she's fading away."

Malfoy shook his head. "No, there has to be something more you can do." His eyes pled with them and Harry could tell he was an instant away from falling apart.

The Healer took a breath and let his hand fall from Malfoy's shoulder. "I'm very sorry Mr. Malfoy, we've done all we can do. She has right now, and possibly a few more days, but I can't promise any more than that."

There was a stirring at the bed. "Draco?" Narcissa's soft voice called out.

"Mother!" All at once Malfoy was at the bedside, right next to her. He grasped for her hand. "Mother, you have to get well. Look, Potter's here, he cleared your name today in court so you can come home now. All you have to do is get better." Tears streamed down his cheeks.

Harry smiled at the frail woman in the bed weakly. She might have a few more days. What would it be like to actually have a mother alive and to know that she was dying? Harry had no idea. He'd never seen that sort of death. He crouched at the other side of the bed feeling awkward.

"Draco, it's so good to see you, I've missed your face." She glanced over at Harry, and her face was full of relief. "Harry, is it true? You've really cleared my name?" Her voice was so weak, so soft. Her hand lightly squeezed Malfoy's.

"Yes you're... considered a war hero now. They can't lock you up anymore." He watched her closely. Was there any chance for her? Sometimes doctors were wrong, so Healers might be too, mightn't they? "I wish I could have prevented them from ever taking you."

She shook her head. "No, you've done so much for me already. Please, think nothing of it. I've never had a strong constitution. Nothing is your fault." She looked back at Malfoy. "Draco, my dear child. You're so strong, why are you crying?"

Malfoy shook his head. He wiped at the tears. "You need to be strong mother and eat, have you eaten? Food will make you stronger."

Harry knew what was happening. He'd never gotten to see it like this though. It was the same as when he'd lost Sirius. Denial, Malfoy didn't want to believe his mother was dying. With Sirius, Harry hadn't wanted to believe he was dead. He'd wanted to believe that he could get to him somehow and bring him back.

"Draco, I'm not hungry. I've been eating broth for days now, and I can't imagine sipping anything at all." She smiled and the light of it was blinding. "A war hero? Me? How ridiculous."

Harry returned her smile.

"You have to eat though, it keeps you alive. Would you like something else? Maybe not broth but some tea and salmon paste on crackers. You always enjoy that." Malfoy looked over at Harry and Harry nodded. He didn't have to know Malfoy to know that look.

"If there's anything you want we can get it for you. Just tell us what it is."

"I have everything I want, right here," she said, squeezing Malfoy's hand. "You. You're all I ever wanted. When I married your father, and I gave birth to you, I knew that was my greatest purpose in life. To raise you. Now look at you, all grown up and so strong. Oh Draco, you've been through so much because of us. Our past nearly cost you your future, how can you ever forgive us? I'm so sorry."

Draco shook his head. "I might be grown up Mother but you aren't done. I still need you. You don't need to be forgiven for anything. You did everything perfectly. Just stay with me, alright? I want you to get better and come home."

"I don't think I can do that Draco," her voice was quivering now. "I'm so tired. Their voices have been calling out to me for ages now and I think they'll go away when I sleep this time." She smiled. "I love you Draco. I have always loved you, and when I go, I'll still love you. I'll be by your side forever, I promise."

Draco shook his head. "No."

Harry stood, nearly in tears himself. "I'll give the two of you some time alone." He left the room and wandered out of St. Mungo's searching through the nearby shops. He found a nice cafe where they were willing to sell him some of their famous locks and cream cheese and some hot tea. Then he returned to St. Mungo's hoping that Malfoy would be more together and perhaps now his mother would eat. 

As soon as he got to the door for her room he knew that he shouldn't have gotten the food. There was a feeling that he knew, even outside of the room and he could hear Malfoy crying inside babbling incoherently things like no, mother and please. He looked down the hall and saw that Hermione had just arrived with a bouquet of flowers. He shook his head and glanced at the door.

She looked at Harry. "What's... going on?"

"The Healers didn't think she had long. I think she died," Harry told her softly. "She didn't seem to have the will to live anymore Hermione. It was... hard to see."

"Oh no, Malfoy," she whispered. Her eyes filled with tears. "Mrs. Malfoy, I was so hoping to see her, before.. I mean it didn't sound like... she shouldn't have..." She flung her arms around Harry. "No, it's not fair, it's not right for this to happen."

Harry nodded in agreement hugging her as well, tea in one hand, sack of food in the other. "It was just a cold. That place is horrible. Someone ought to destroy it." He pulled away and opened the door a bit to peer in. Malfoy was holding his mother, preventing the staff from taking her away. He wasn't saying much anymore, but he was crying and he had his wand out. Harry turned to Hermione again. "I think we're going to have to intervene."

She looked in and nodded. "Yes, I agree." With a quick swipe of her hand the tears were gone, and she was looking more in charge. "Ready?"

In response, he held the door open for her.

Malfoy's arm shook as he held the wand at the Healers. "Don't come any closer."

"Mr. Malfoy," the Healer spoke softly but firmly. "I know that you don't want to let go of her, but this isn't the place for her now dear. She's moved on."

"She hasn't," Draco's voice wavered near hysteria, "she's sleeping, she's only gone to sleep."

Hermione was by his side in a moment. "Malfoy," she whispered, and on an impulse, she wrapped her arms around him. "Oh Malfoy."

Harry moved to his other side. "It's okay you know," he said softly, "to want it to be different, to be angry." He put a hand on Malfoy's shoulder. "It's normal."

Malfoy shook his head against Hermione. "I can't. I need to take her home. She doesn't belong here with them." His wand was lowering but Harry shook his head in warning at the workers. He held up a finger, hoping they would wait.

"Of course," Hermione said. Her arms were holding Malfoy tight. "It's understandable. Your family will want to take care of the details. It's important to you. I'm sure they can wait, until your father comes to pick her up."

"They want to move her to a holding area with a bunch of corpses." Malfoy shook his head. "Why are you bothering with this Granger?"

Harry looked at Hermione. When he caught her eye he nodded at Malfoy, pointed at himself then nodded at the staff. He paused to make sure she understood.

Hermione nodded lightly and didn't loosen her grip one bit. "Malfoy," she whispered. "They can't take her to a holding area with other bodies. You're right here, you have every right to take her out of here, she's your mother. I'm bothering with you because I care, because everyone needs someone to help them through hard times."

"I'm a Malfoy. I'll be fine."

Harry gathered the staff and led them out of the room. "I think we should talk first. Malfoy isn't doing very well and I'm sure no one wants a wand fight." He was certain they could all work something out.


	3. Chapter 3 - The House at Spinner's End

Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived at the little house at the end of Spinners End, early Thursday morning. The air was chilly, which was odd. It seemed far too early for such glum weather. He looked it over. "It's sort of small, but it looks like it could have been cozy at some time."

 

Hermione nodded and gave him a smile. "Yeah, it could have been. Do you think it was?" she looked uncertainly at the house.

 

"Never," Ron replied, "just look at Snape. Does he strike you as someone who ever knew cozy?"

 

Harry went to the door and opened it with his key. "You don't know. We just have no way of telling." He entered a tiny living room. The walls were covered with bookcases.

 

"Pardon the intrusion," Hermione said behind him as she entered. She moved past him as she walked to a bookshelf. "Wow, these are old."

 

"The books or the shelves?" he asked. Looking around he saw the furniture was much like the exterior, extremely uninviting. This was Snape's home. Why did that make him so curious? He looked around but he didn't see any other doors.

 

"Both, actually, now that you mention it," she said.

 

"Hey, take a look at this 'Mione." Ron picked up a black wool cloak from the coat rack by the door. Dust billowed off of it. "He must have been here during the winter. This cloak is archaic though. All of his clothes were like that. Out of style centuries ago. Sort of like mine." Ron fell silent. Perhaps he was as uncomfortable with the similarity as Harry was.

 

She came over to him. "That's so dusty Ron," she coughed. "It looks really warm though." She reached out a hand and ran her fingers over the outside of it.

 

They were touching Snape's winter cloak. For some reason he was drawn to it as well. Going over, he extended his hand, feeling the scratchy wool on the exterior, the soft inner lining. Yes, it was likely very warm. Might he wear it? He shook his head and shivered. No, certainly not.

 

"There only seems to be one room," he pointed out. "I don't know if either of you have noticed."

 

"Don't be silly mate," Ron looked around. "There has to be more to it than this. It didn't look that small."

 

Hermione took her hand back, eyes flicking over the walls. "There must be a secret door or two." She walked to the shelves again. "Maybe something that you touch?"

 

Harry began looking as well. He could hear Ron put the cloak back on the rack and from the corner of his eyes he saw him move into the room, walking around restlessly. All he could see was books, books, shelves, shelves, and old furniture. The scent of must hovered in the stale air. Finally, Ron leaned back against a bookcase to watch them. 

 

"So why would you hi..." the i stretched on for some time as he fell backwards, head hitting the gound with a crack. "Ouch."

 

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, rushing over to him and kneeling on the ground by his side. "Are you alright?"

 

Ron groaned, "Yeah, fine." He smiled. "Especially with you here."

 

Harry rolled his eyes, concluded that Ron would be just fine, and looked past him at a kitchen. The floors were white linoleum tile. The walls were grease stained. White on white. The kitchen counters though were a deep green with bright green flecks almost exactly the color of his eyes.

 

Hermione bent down and kissed his cheek. "Good, I wouldn't want you hurt." She looked up at the kitchen then and took a breath. "Wow, this place needs a wipe down, some spring cleaning and incense."

 

Ron slowly sat up. "I don't understand it. Why would anyone hide the kitchen with a secret bookcase door?"

 

"Maybe it's not the kitchen he's hiding." Hermione said as she helped Ron sit. "I mean, maybe there's something else."

 

He took Ron's other hand and pulled him up to stand.

 

"If it is he hid the kitchen too." Ron walked into the kitchen. "Mum would have a fit if she saw this. It's a horrible kitchen."

 

"I sort of like the counter tops." Harry walked over to them and touched them with his finger. There was no dust on them at all. "That's odd." He went to the icebox and opened it up. There was only one thing in it, a vial with a swirly memory inside. He slammed it shut.

 

"Harry," Hermione gasped. "What's wrong?"

 

He shook his head, "Sorry, it slipped. It's just... empty but these counters, did you notice they don't have any dust on them?" Even as he lied about the memory vial he wondered why he was doing it. For some reason he wanted to keep it hidden, keep it to himself.

 

She walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm sorry, this has got to be one of the most traumatic moments of the summer." She looked at the counter. "I like the color, it reminds me of your eyes." Pulling out her wand, she passed it over the countertop. "Spelled, to keep it clean."

 

"At least there's that," Ron said, "but look at that stove. It's nearly useless. Even a cheap replacement would be better. The icebox too, it's far too small. To save money you want to spend on a bigger one then you can buy things when they're cheap and use them when prices go high."

 

Hermione grinned at Ron. "Techniques learned from your mum, yes?"

 

"'Course." He looked around. "There's really not enough room to get much done in this kitchen though, and where is the dining room?"

 

Harry began opening cupboards and looking through the contents. It was as if Muggle and magic lived side by side in this kitchen. There were dried herbs in one cabinet, a box of crackers, unopened, a couple jars of caned vegetables and some vials with swirly memories in them.

 

"It is a small kitchen," Hermione agreed. "I wonder how often it was used. Do you think they ever had a family gathering here? I can't imagine how they would do that."

 

Harry pushed everything back in, in front of the memories, trying to act normal as possible. He was supposed to destroy those memories, but what if they were Snape's? If they were, then this was all he had left of the man who had seemed so evil and turned out to be so noble.

 

"He couldn't have or they couldn't have," Ron corrected, "You know what I mean. It's a one family home with no room for celebrations. It isn't really this small from the outside though. I mean they made poor use of the space. They could have made it so much more."

 

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You seem pale."

 

Harry sighed and went to examine the lower cabinets. "I'm fine, really I just can't believe this is all...his and now mine. Why did he keep this place? Was it important? Did he love it? Or was it just a convenience, to own some sort of house?" Harry tucked a memory vial back onto the shelf under the sink carefully and closed the door on it. They were everywhere, but why?

 

"Yeah, I know what you mean. There's this overhanging sadness that seems infused in the wood, the air, everything. I can't imagine why he would be so attached to this place, if he even was." She shook her head.

 

He really needed to get the two of them out of the room so he could be alone with this for a while. "There has to be an upstairs too. Ron, could you go lean on the bookcases some more? See if you can find the staircase?"

 

Hermione snickered. "Yeah Ron, lean on some bookcases, see if you fall down again." 

 

"How about one of you goes and tries it instead."

 

"But we aren't nearly so good at it as you Ron," Harry teased. 

 

Hermione looked back at Ron. "Well, if your talented self isn't going to lean on walls, I guess I will instead. Wish me luck."

 

"I'll do one better than that," Ron followed after her, "I'll watch and laugh if you fall, kidding. I'm just kidding." He winked at Harry as he left. Harry stood and went to the kitchen walls, examining them carefully as he moved around the room. He was thinking of two things as he did so, Ron's comment about there being no dining room and Hermione's suggestion that the kitchen wasn't actually what Snape had been trying to conceal.

 

Harry heard Hermione was moving methodically around the other room, touching this, moving that. "You know, this collection of books is amazing. Ron, have you noticed some of the titles on your shelves? I have on mine, and they're not only ancient, some of them I've never seen or heard of before." She raised her voice a bit to call into the kitchen. "Some of them are really dark texts too, do you want to keep those Harry, or get rid of them? I'd be really careful of keeping them, they could get you in trouble."

 

Harry was finding more shelves, more wall, and one door in the far corner of the room. There was a wall next to the door that was mostly empty, just one wall light hanging a bit above his head. Following the counters led to the back of the kitchen where there was another wall that had a wall light on it.

 

"I'll have to look through them on a case by case, maybe give the super scary ones to Hogwarts and let them decide how to deal with them," he returned. So many books and bookcases, was it part of not socialising? Had he read books instead?

 

When Harry got to the wall lamp he fiddled with it as well, pulling, pushing, twisting. It took him a moment to figure it out, but by pulling at the bottom of the curve it came loose and with a slight groaning, a part of the wall slid into the other side, revealing a set of stairs, going down.

 

Harry looked down into the darkness. The basement. He crept down about five stairs and whispered, "Lumos," holding his wand in front of him.

 

There was a lot of dust. It didn't look so much as though no one had been here, but more that they hadn't bothered to clean the place up. The stairs were wooden, uncovered, and the walls were brick with cobwebs all over. He could see further down was the actual basement, perhaps another ten to fifteen steps.

 

"Do you want me to make a catalogue of your books?" Hermione's voice called. "I could list them by what they are, including a line for things I don't know and things I think are dangerous."

 

"Don't worry about it," Harry called up to her, hoping she wouldn't be able to tell where he was. "I'll look through them myself." It would give him something to do, because he'd already decided not to return to school. He was an adult now and it was his decision to make.

 

That was when there was a small thud and laughter. "I found the stairs that lead up!" Hermione said.

 

Harry climbed back up the stairs and pushed the bottom of the curve up, closing the basement passage. He was about to call to Hermione when someone knocked on the door. That was strange. He went to the space in the bookcase and looked into the living room. Ron was helping Hermione off the floor.

 

She was giggling as she brushed her robes off. "I can't believe I fell on my face." She turned to look at Harry. "Who on earth would be coming here?"

 

Harry shook his head. "I really can't imagine." He went to the door to open it.

 

"Better be careful," Ron warned, "there's no telling what kind of company he kept."

 

Hermione moved over to stand at his side, one hand touching her wand. "I've got your back," she whispered.

 

Harry wasn't especially worried and as he opened the door he saw what he'd half expected, though he'd hoped it wasn't true. How had they even found him here? "You guys turn up everywhere these days." Like roaches, Harry thought, once you had them they were near impossible to get rid of.

 

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger," the Auror said, nodding to each of them in turn. There were two out here, as usual, neither one familiar to Harry. "It's very nice to see you. We'd like to have a word, if you don't mind." The other Auror remained silent.

 

"Oh sure, why not?" Harry opened the door wider to let them in, but in that moment he finally made up his mind. He didn't want to be one of them. It was fine for Hermione, she would want to change things and maybe she could. Ron too, for him it was lineage. It made sense for him to work with the Ministry really but Harry was going to say no.

 

"Thank you," the Auror said, walking in. The other was right behind him, nodding at Harry as he entered.

 

Hermione backed away from them so they could come in, but she kept her eyes on them the whole time. "I can't believe you're here," she said to them. "I mean, you're worse than rodents, infesting every aspect of a person's lives until they give you an answer. Don't you have any compassion? Don't you have any respect for what Harry's going through?"

 

Surprisingly, it was the second Auror who answered her. "Miss Granger, Auror's aren't known for their compassion exactly. They're known for saving lives, for helping those who need it, and for taking light into the darkness. As you know, Auror's deal with many things that haunt innocent wizards, witches, and Muggles. We don't do it to be compassionate, we do it to protect everyone we come across. I know that we have been tactless and sometimes seem cruel, however, we have everyone's best interests in mind. Your's, Mr. Potter's, Mr. Weasley's all the family you have as well as all the family you will have. We have not done the best job of late, and we intend to change that. This is the reason why we cannot simply wait to ask our questions. We must act, as soon as we can, so we can bring peace to our torn lands." When he was finished, he was handing a letter to her.

 

It was a good speach to give Hermione, Harry thought. She would understand that reasoning. Harry backed away, disinterested. Ron moved forward a bit and peered at the unopened letter.

 

The first Auror to enter turned to Ron. "Mr. Weasley, we believe your quick thinking and tactical abilities will be well honed in our Auror programme, and would like to extend our hopes that you will join our teams fighting the internal battles that plague our towns." He held out a letter to him.

 

Hermione took the letter and turned it in her hands. "What is this? Bleed for us and we'll pay you?"

 

"It is a request that you consider joining our forces at the Ministry. Hopefully in our Muggle Rights and Safety Department," the second Auror told her.

 

"There is no Muggle Rights and Safety Department," she snapped at him.

 

"There will be in a few months. We're restructuring the Ministry into parts that make more sense for the greater good." Hermione watched him for several minutes, then opened her letter and read it.

 

Ron opened his own letter and his face lit up as he looked it over. He glanced at Harry, his eyes shifting over him. "What do you think Harry? We always wanted to be Aurors together. Now we really could."

 

Harry shook his head. "Sorry Ron. I'm not doing it."

 

Hermione seemed to have finished her letter, and she looked at Harry. "Why not?" she asked. "It's a good opportunity, they're even willing to wait until we finish school."

 

Harry shook his head meeting her eyes. "I'm not going back to school. I don't want to commit to anything. I've had a hard year, a hard life really. I just need some time. If the offer is still there in a year or ten then maybe, but I'm not ready to slip into anyone's neat little box just yet."

 

"Harry, it's not slipping into anyone's neat little box, it's your future. Going back to school is necessary for that." Hermione moved over to him and took one of his hands. "I know we've had a hard year, but you can't let that get in the way of your future. You have to... think about it."

 

"I'll do that, I'll think a lot but I'm not going back to school." He'd been dreading telling her this the more he'd realized it was what he wanted. "Not everybody's future is about school you know? I don't know what I want and I don't see why I shouldn't take some time off to figure it out."

 

"What about Ginny?" Ron was looking pretty angry. "She's expecting you to go back. She's already making plans for Hogsmeade weekends with you and such."

 

Harry shook his head. Ginny. He had no idea what to do about her. He didn't know what they had at this point, if anything. "I can still see her, even if I don't go back."

 

"Ron's right," Hermione said. "You should have told us sooner if you weren't going to be going back to school." 

 

The first Auror walked over to Harry and held out a letter. "The offer extends to you to join the Auror's programme. You have a year to decide if you want to join. You don't have to join in a year, just decide in a year."

 

Harry wondered if the writing on the letter had been altered as he stood there talking to the other two. He was tempted to refuse the letter all together, but he took it with a nod. "You'll stop going everywhere I go now? Not you specifically, but Auror's in general."

 

He nodded at Harry. "Yes, we'll stop asking for your decision."

 

"This letter was formed with the understanding that you were not yet ready to make a commitment," the second Auror said. "To give you some time to relax from the war and all of the things that have caused you grief. To allow you plenty of rest so when you join our program you will be at the peak of health."

 

Harry nodded. He did at least appreciate that. He still hated the way they'd been harrassing him but at least they were finally backing off a bit. "I'll consider it." He turned to Hermione, "but I'm not spending that year in school." 

 

Ron shook his head looking disgusted and turned to the Aurors. "I'll send the paperwork in as soon as I have a spare moment."

 

"I think I will too. However I'm not putting a single foot into the Ministry until I," she turned and looked at Harry pointedly. "Finish school."

 

Harry shrugged and went back to the door, opening it for the Aurors. "By the way, what made you look for us here?"

 

"All deeds and transferrence of deeds go through the Ministry. We have been stopping by ever since the house became your possession." The first Auror walked to the door and exited.

 

"Thank you for your time Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," the second Auror said, nodding at each person in order. "We look forward to working with all of you."

 

Harry held his breath as he watched them leave. Then he let it out slowly as he shut the door firmly behind them. "Working with all of us. As if it's predetermined that we all will say yes."

 

"That's their job, to feel quite firm in their convictions. Harry, you're going back to school." Hermione's hands were on her hips. "There's no reason for you not to."

 

"I'm not. Hermione, you and Ron are great friends and I know you only want what's best for me, but I'm just not." Harry went to the couch and sat in the dust. It puffed up around him as he did so.

 

"What about Ginny?" Ron tucked his letter into his pocket and rounded on Harry.

 

What about Ginny? Well, what about her? Why did Ron think she should be the total focus of Harry's life? "Ginny and I have a lot of talking to do. I'm not the same person I was before I left and she might find that I'm not actually what she wants anymore. I..." Harry would have continued but Ron was across the room, pulling him up by the collar.

 

"Ron!" Hermione gasped. "Don't hit him." She tucked her letter into her robe and came over to them. "It's a perfectly understandable step of logic."

 

"If you hurt her," Ron dropped his collar and turned away. "Harry I trusted you to be good to her."

 

"That's why I'm being as honest as possible Ron." Harry stared at Ron's back. Was he making a mistake? Wasn't it better to face this than to pretend he was exactly as he had been before?

 

Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron. "He just needs to talk to her. They'll sort it all out. These things just take time."

 

"I don't understand what happens to make someone change their mind about who they love. I don't understand it Hermione and I don't want to see Ginny hurt."

 

Harry breathed in some dust, coughed a few times and stood up. "I'm going to look around upstairs." Somehow everything had changed in the last half hour. They went from being old friends to strangers all at once. He wondered if Hermione and Ron had noticed it, the sudden shift from close to far, far away.

 

"I don't want to see Ginny hurt either, but she's a big girl, and strong besides. They'll talk, maybe it'll take a few months, but they'll figure themselves out. You know Ginny loves Harry, and I know that Harry loves her too. The kind of love might have changed though." Hermione glanced over at Harry. "We'll be right behind you. Come on Ron, we're still exploring."

 

Hermione, still trying to make things alright. Harry smiled softly to himself and wondered if she would be able to pull things together this time. He hoped she could, but he had his doubts.


	4. Chapter 4 - Delving Into Snape's Memories

Harry was finally alone. Ron had been moody the rest of the time and Hermione talkative, trying to get them to interact. She continued to badger him about school of course, but Harry had pretty much expected that. He was now standing at the fridge staring at the memory within. It swirled inside of the vial invitingly.

 

He took it out and closed the icebox door. It was Snape's, it had to be. Harry wanted to see it. No, he needed to see it. Of course he couldn't see it without a pensieve. He slipped it into his pocket and thought immediately of the basement. Who kept this many memories and nothing to view them in?

 

He opened the secret door and descended the stairs. He felt almost like he was moving into the dungeon at Hogwarts. The air was cool, slightly damp, and he walked down the stairs hearing the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls. It seemed like forever he walked, till he reached the bottom. What he saw was more than a little disturbing.

 

Walls were covered in shelves, which themselves were covered in vials. Potions, memories, ingredients, all mixed together in some order Harry couldn't decipher. There were three cauldrons in the middle of the room, two tables nearby with cutting boards and knives. There were fixtures in the ceiling for several lights, though for the moment his wand was the only light in the room. He searched for a light switch and when he found it he flipped it on. More memories, and so many of them, but what he needed was a pensieve.

 

The basement was bigger than he had expected. It was more than just the size of the house, it stretched for many feet in every direction further than the house did. It was like a library, with the first set of shelves Harry had seen, and then some space, and then the actual walls, shelves there as well. Surely not all of these belonged to Snape. That would be quite impossible, wouldn't it?

 

Harry walked past them slowly, distinguishing memories from potions, potions from ingredients, though there were times when he couldn't tell the latter. He went all around the room, looking at everything. As he was walking through the shelves, looking here, looking there, his foot caught on something and he fell to the ground. Glancing down at his feet, he saw a box, mostly shoved into the wall at the bottom of a shelf.

 

Crawling to the box he pulled it out, examining it. It looked as though it had be crammed carelessly and quickly into a spot that was made for it to set just right. The box was made of wood, and there were symbols carved all over the edges of it. Runes, Hermione would call them, and then she'd tell Harry what they were and what they meant. On one side of the top was hinges, and on the other a clasp.

 

Harry supposed it would be helpful to know what the runes said before he opened the box, but Hermione wasn't there and he didn't intend to involve her in this at all. Snape had specifically instructed him to get rid of the vials but he had to know what they were. He just had to. So he opened the clasp and lifted the hinged lid to look inside. Nestled among soft fabrics of white and black was a pensive, the edges of it glowing faintly as the liquid inside shimmered. Harry could see his reflection on the surface, looking back at him.

 

He grinned at the shiny surface. This was perfect. He lifted it up, box and all and set it on top of a small wooden table beside a cauldron. It was likely meant as a place for chopping and such, but it would serve. Then Harry took the memory vial from his pocket and emptied it's contents into the pensieve.

 

The pensieve swirled with the memory, the surface turning bright, then dimming slightly. He could see that it was ready to be viewed, and a slight chill wafted off of the surface. The icebox. Why would anybody put a memory in the icebox? He leaned into the cool swirling surface, forward and further still, falling into the memory.

 

He tumbled down and landed on crunchy snow with bright white stars above himself. He was at Hogwarts, in the winter, and someone wearing a black cloak was moving swiftly away from the castle. No one else seemed to be around. Harry rushed after the person in the black cloak. As he moved, he saw another figure coming out of the castle. It bounded up to the first figure, grabbed a hold of it and twisted it around. Now Harry could see that the figure was Draco Malfoy.

 

"Where do you think you're going?" Snape's voice came from the second figure, and he shook Malfoy.

 

"Out, just out. Why can't you leave me alone?" Malfoy struggled. "I have a job to do and it's none of your business. Can't you just let me do what needs to be done?"

 

"Why can't you just let me help you? You're stronger with an ally on your side." Harry could see that Snape was practically trembling, in anxiety perhaps?

 

"The task is mine and mine alone. You have your own tasks. Why don't you take care of them and leave me alone?" Malfoy pushed at Snape, trying to get away from him with all his might.

 

Malfoy pushed Snape away and Harry got the feeling that Snape allowed it to happen. "I want to help you, not take the glory from you. You must have one person who you trust, who you know will stay by your side and do what is needed. I can be that person."

 

"But I don't trust you Severus, don't you get that? How can I trust you? You have the sort of job that makes it impossible. How many times have you said things and not meant them? You don't want my glory? Good, because you can't have it. I'm doing this for my father and if I don't do it alone He won't count it. I'm not like you. I won't kill my own father." Draco turned from him then and began running.

 

"Draco!" Snape called out, watching after the retreating figure for several moments. Finally he turned away, robe snapping at his heels and the memory faded.

 

When he fell out of the memory Harry couldn't help wondering if it had been in the icebox because it happened in the winter. Or was that just a coincidence? Why would it be around at all? He collected the memory and returned it, using his wand to etch a label into the vial. Draco - Hogwarts - 6th Yr. He traded the vial for one of the ones on the shelves. More curious instead of less. He dumped the contents into the pensieve and bent forward to view them.

 

Once his feet were on the ground, he saw he was in a large, circular room. It looked as though it might be a cave of some variety. Voldemort was there, as was Snape, wearing a black robe, no shoes or socks, and he was kneeling. Voldemort moved around him, watching him.

 

"You say that is all you can tell me? All those years working at that school, and now that I'm back, all you can tell me is that there isn't much to tell? Why have you come to me Severus? Why?"

 

"My Lord, I came because I love you. I came because I feel that you may yet find use for me. Use me My Lord, please allow my insignificant life to benefit you."

 

Harry moved in, watching. He'd never seen Snape with Voldemort and it was hard to watch such a proud man in that position. Had he thought that Snape stood up to Voldemort, or stayed at his side? Maybe he had. It just seemed so wrong to see Snape kneel at anyone's feet.

 

"You allowed the brat to live, you allowed him to come into your school and do what he wanted. You even allowed him to thwart my efforts. Why did you do that Severus?"

 

"My Lord, I had no idea he would be anything other than your next incarnation. When he first came into the school, I was curious to see what he would be like. If he would follow in your proud footsteps. I watched him, I studied him, and when I realized he was not going to be all that you were, I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that when you returned to us, you would want to kill him yourself. Had I but known that you were there, I would have done my utmost to help you, to do what was right by you. I humbly beg your forgiveness, My Lord." Voldemort was directly in front of him at that moment, and Snape leaned forward to kiss his boots. With a swift kick up, that boot was in Snape's face, and he was flung away from him, huddled on the ground. Blood was flowing from his lip.

 

"Severus, I will give forgiveness when I feel it is earned, and not before."

 

Snape scrambled up, kneeling in front of Voldemort again. "Yes, My Lord, I'm terribly sorry My Lord."

 

Harry thought Snape was pushing it with the comment about Harry being Voldemort's next incarnation, but evidently Snape knew what he was doing. Voldemort seemed convinced enough though still angry.

 

"Why did you not answer my summons Severus? Why did you wait so long to come to me if you love me so much? I know you felt my call, you can't help but feel it when I called so fiercely. You were at the school, during the Tournament, and you did not come to me. It would have been easy to come, to slip away when no one was looking." Voldemort's voice got low, hissing and excessively cold. "Yet you didn't come. You didn't come until now. Explain yourself Severus."

 

Snape looked up into Voldemort's eyes, for Voldemort was crouched now, his face bent low to Snape. He held that gaze as he spoke. "I came at Dumbledore's request My Lord, so my position as spy would not be compromised. If you would like to use me in that capacity once more, you can, for he believes me to still be working for him."

 

For several minutes there was silence, Lord watching Minion, their gazes never leaving one another, and Harry had the distinct impression that Voldemort was searching Snape's mind for something. Searching his mind. For what? Some sign of deceit or dishonesty? Did he do that often? Harry didn't see any sign that Snape was trying to block him. He seemed to simply allow the invasion. How? Did he know some method to hide things without blocking a person from his mind? Was that some sort of advanced method?

 

Finally there was a break, and both of them looked away. "I see. You would lead me to believe that you have nothing to tell me, yet your mind is full of things of interest. Severus, you're being dishonest."

 

"No My Lord. Those things you saw are all things I had intended to tell you, just not as my catalyst for being taken back into your fold. I can tell you many things about the school, it's defenses, as well as what teachers you can bring to your side. My Lord, I wished only to make clear my devotion though I can do so little in hopes I might be permitted to witness your glory once more."

 

"You always did know how to please me, didn't you Severus?" Voldemort did sound pleased, almost ecstatic as he spoke. One hand caressed Snape's face for a moment, then he slid his nails down a cheek, cutting into Sanpe's flesh, leaving four lines of red behind. "You know what to say, you know how to grovel, you know what actions to take that make me want to believe you. So why don't I Severus? Why don't I?"

 

"I don't know My Lord," Snape whispered, never flinching as his skin was damaged. "I kneel here, at your feet, completely at your mercy. What can this humble servant do to prove his worth to you?"

 

Maybe Snape had simply let him see everything, trusting that none of it could be hazardous? Things weren't looking very good for him at the moment.

 

Voldemort tilted his head to one side, and then a slow smile curved his lips. "I see. Yes, that would do nicely. Severus, strip down. If you can withstand twenty lashes without crying out, I'll let you rejoin my fold. Otherwise, I'll take you to the house, chain you to a bed, and leave you there until everyone is so bored with you they let you die. Does that sound acceptable to you Severus?"

 

If it was possible, Harry thought Snape's skin got a bit paler. "You are very generous My Lord, may I stand?" he asked, and Voldemort nodded his head. Slowly he stood, and then he began to strip, taking off every article of clothing and putting them to the side. On top of his clothes he placed his wand.

 

Harry couldn't keep his eyes off Snape as he stripped. He'd had no idea that this sort of thing went on. Had Dumbledore known? Had he been aware that Snape was used to receiving naked whippings? He couldn't have could he?

 

"Arms in the air Severus, just as I like it." Snape's arms lifted, and Voldemort flicked his wand, causing shackles to fall from the ceiling. They clamped around Snape's wrists instantly, and pulled him up until his feet weren't quite touching the ground. "There you go my Severus. That's beautiful. You know, all alone in the dank earth I thought of you, of how much I missed you, and how much you mean to me. I don't think I could have come back if you had died, I would have been so lonely without you." He brushed a hand across Snape's chest, avoiding the nipples, but touching the flat belly. The hand drifted around his side, over his back, and touched Snape's arse lightly before leaving his body. Snape didn't utter a sound, his face was set ridged and tight.

 

"My Severus, have you missed me as well?"

 

"Yes My Lord."

 

"Has your body craved for what only I can do to it?"

 

"Yes My Lord."

 

"Do you want my whip?"

 

"Yes My Lord."

 

"Would you beg for it?"

 

"Yes My Lord."

 

"That's a good boy." Voldemort reached a hand up and grabbed Snape's hair, pulling his head back so far his throat was stretched tight and he uttered a slight grunt. "You really do know how to please me." He licked Snape's face, and let his head go. "You will count them as they fall."

 

"Yes My Lord."

 

Harry hated it, but he kept watching still. There was something about Snape, so helpless, that was both horrifying and tragically beautiful. He hated what was happening, hated thinking of what it meant but he couldn't turn away from it.

 

Voldemort touched his wand to his hand and a long whip appeared. He cracked it a few times on the ground, yet Snape didn't move a muscle. Then it flashed across Snape's back, and Snape said, "One My Lord."

 

A streak of red slid down Snape's body, and Voldemort licked his lips. He brought the whip up again and it struck in a cross pattern from the first mark. "Two My Lord." Voldemort hummed.

 

"It's beautiful," he said. "Seeing your blood in front of my eyes makes me feel so complete once more. Truly Severus, your blood is the most rich of all." He moved close and flicked his tongue out across the top of Snape's back. Blood covered his lips, tongue and chin and he moved back, licking his lips to clean the blood from him. His eyes were heavily lidded as a finger caught a drop of it just before it fell from his chin, his tongue curving around it to suck the blood. "Delicious."

 

Then the whip was across his flesh again. "Three My Lord." Again, "Four My Lord." Now Snape's voice was becoming more of a pant than a voice. Five, six, seven whips later and Voldemort paused again.

 

Blood was dripping freely down Snape's back, arse, legs and sides. "I love this, I'd forgotten how much I loved this. Oh Severus, I'm so glad you came back to me. How else could I have lived? Without you there's no fun."

 

The blood. Harry wanted to stop the flow of it somehow. He hated it, hated what was happening, hated that Snape had walked right into it and that this was nothing new. Voldemort had done this to him before. How many times? How many times had he done it since? Then Harry realized that this was likely why Snape had told him to destroy these memories. Why were they here in the first place? Why?

 

"My dear Severus," Voldemort whipped him three more times before he spoke again. "This war will be perfect. We'll bathe the world with blood just as red as yours, though none so precious. We'll make everything ours, and when people beg for mercy, we'll kill them. And that brat, who's been plaguing your life since he came to school, we'll kill too. Harry Potter. I'll kill him for you Severus, so that you have nothing to bother you again. You won't have to see that face anymore, those eyes or that hair. Never again my Severus. Because you hate him, and so do I. I'll kill him for you. I'll kill him."

 

His hand trembled and he brought the whip down on Snape's back again and again, furiously now, so fast Snape had a hard time keeping up the count. By the time he reached twenty he was almost crying it out. Somehow he kept his voice just steady enough that Voldemort didn't seem to notice the wavering in it.

 

"There you go my Severus. Now that you're all bloody and beautiful, you're going to crawl to me, and do what I love even more than seeing your blood." Voldemort moved from Snape, waved his wand to produce a throne, and sat in it. Another wave of his wand and Snape was collapsing on the ground. "Come here," Voldemort crooned and Snape looked up at him, at the hand caressing his pants.

 

"Yes My Lord," he whispered and crawled over to him, his whole body shaking with the effort to move.

 

No, no, no. Harry turned his head away only to turn back. Was Snape really going to...?

 

He was. He stopped just at Voldemort's feet and reached up to touch the folds of his robe. "My Lord, may I?" he whispered.

 

Voldemort smiled, licked his lips and nodded his head.

 

No. Did Snape really want to? Of course he didn't. He couldn't. He was dripping blood, trailing it across the floor. All you could possibly want to do was go home, take a few healing potions and have a bath. Right?

 

Snape's trembling hands pulled the robes open, moved them so that a thin, hard cock was exposed. "My Lord," Snape said reverently. "I have missed you too."

 

One of Voldemort's hands reached down and stroked Snape's hair. "Have you my dear Severus? Are you struck by the beauty of me? Have you forgotten how I like to be touched, to be tasted?"

 

"No My Lord, I have never forgotten." A brief flash of emotion went across Snape's face, but it was gone so quickly that Harry couldn't read it, couldn't understand what it meant.

 

Harry wished he could back up and see that look again. He didn't want to look at Snape more closely but he did, moving to the floor where he could see his face. He didn't want to see this up close, but some part of him was looking for proof, proof that Snape didn't really want to be treated this way.

 

"Take it Severus, take it as deep as I like it, and then swallow every drop that I give you. Don't spill a bit of it or I'll punish you more. Of course you'd like that, wouldn't you?" One foot extended and brushed against Snape's cock. It went half hard as the boot kicked at it. Snape's face clouded over, pleasure, pain? Harry wasn't sure what it was exactly.

 

"My Lord," Snape whispered. He closed his eyes, then opened them again, leaning forward and licking the tip of Voldemort's cock. His tongue swirled around the head, then he began to bathe it with his tongue. He covered every inch, pulling the balls into his mouth briefly and then moved his lips to the tip again, and opened up, slipping the whole dick into his mouth. It was sheathed in his mouth completely, his lips at the base, and Harry could see, for the first time, a quick flash of disgust flow across Snape's face.

 

Disgust. It had been worth leaning close, though Harry was disgusted himself. He pulled away from the scent of sweat and blood. It was nauseating.

 

Snape moved along that cock, head bobbing up and down many times as Voldemort's hands went to his hair and grabbed hold of it, shoving him down. Snape made gagging noises, and Voldemort looked pleased. "Yes my Severus, that's right, take it and love it. Do what I want, when I want you to, because that is the only thing you're good for. Belonging to me."

 

Harry wanted to gag. He hoped Snape had never begun to believe that drivel.

 

A few more hair pullings and shoves, and Voldemort was crying out, his hands pressing Snape's head so far down that Snape's eyes were tearing up. He held him there for a few moments, while Snape swallowed again and again. Licking his lips he looked down at Snape and wrenched his head up freeing his spent dick.

 

"Good boy Severus, you drank every drop. You haven't forgotten what I've taught you." Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he leaned over and licked Snape's cheek. "Did you enjoy that?"

 

"Yes My Lord," Snape choked out. He was breathing hard, and his hands were flexing at his sides. He coughed. "My Lord, have I pleased you?"

 

"Yes, Severus, you have."

 

"My Lord, may I join you once again?"

 

"Yes, you may."

 

"Thank you My Lord."

 

"Severus," Voldemort let him go and he fell to the ground again, gasping and coughing. "I want to kill Mr. Potter. Let's see if we can't arrange it."

 

"Of course, My Lord."

 

The memory ended and Harry was brought out of it quickly.

 

Harry stared at the pensieve for a long time before he removed the memory and put it into a vial. It was almost enough to make him put away the pensieve and destroy the memories as he'd been told. Even as he determined that was just what he should do Harry labeled the vial. 2nd War - Return to LV. Then he picked up another memory. Just one more and he would stop. Just one more.

 

He emptied it into the pensieve and entered it, finding himself in a sunny field. A young Severus Snape, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, was sitting out and reading a book. He was avidly as he flipping the pages, staring at each word in pleasure. For several minutes he stayed that way, reading in the bright sun.

 

Harry approached him, looking over his shoulder to see what he was reading. From all Harry's years of looking at this very same book, he recognized it instantly. It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Pictures of players on their brooms flying through the air passed along the pages and Snape was drinking them up like they were the most precious things of all.

 

Harry smiled, immediately remembering how much he'd loved that book. It was one of those ones you never got tired of. Young Snape seemed to be agreeing with him, as his eyes floated across the pages in fascination.

 

"Hey, Snape!" the voice came from behind him. He closed the book in a panic and tucked it into his shirt. He was wearing a pair of worn, faded slacks and a collared shirt with a vest over it. When Harry glanced around, he could see that he was at Spinner's End. "What'cha doin' up here Snape?"

 

Three boys were coming up the hill, and to Harry's trained eyes, he could see that they were bullies. Their looks, their way of walking, their gleaming eyes all reminded Harry of Dudley and his gang. He looked from them to Snape. Had he been Snape he'd have been running by now, trying to get home and inside with a door locked.

 

Snape however, was brushing off his clothes and turning to look at them. "Nothing, I'm not doing anything," he said defiantly. The three came around him and started laughing.

 

"Now, now Snapie, don't get all angry with us," one of the boys said, his tone like someone talking down to a child.

 

"That's right, don't get angry," said another boy. "We just want to be your friends."

 

"Well, that's too bad, I'm going to have to leave now, my Mum is expecting me." Snape kept his head held high and started walking away.

 

"We can't have that!" the first boy said. "We're just getting started."

 

Harry shook his head. Was it pride that made him do that, or did he already know he couldn't outrun them? He turned to follow, turning back a moment later.

 

"You're not going anywhere," the second boy said, grabbing a hold of Snape's shirt and pulling him around.

 

"Not until we're done smashing up your face!" said the third as he brought his fist around and whacked it into Snape's nose.

 

"That's right!" crowed the first. "Snapie punching bag time!"

 

These memories were painful to watch. Why were they in vials all over his house though?

 

For several minutes the three boys punched at Snape, hitting him and kicking him when he fell to the ground. Snape pulled in on himself, covering his chest, where the book was hidden.

 

"Aww, Snapie isn't going to cry out," the first boy said.

 

"Too bad," the second kicked Snape again.

 

"He's just being boring," the third spit on Snape's face.

 

Snape hid his face, his legs curled up so he was in a ball on the ground.

 

"Not fun," the first said. "Lets go guys, he's boring."

 

Had he taken that beating just to protect the book? Harry watched Snape as the boys left.

 

Each of the boys kicked him as they passed, and Snape remained curled up until they were well out of sight. Then he stood, pulled out the book, looked it over and heaved a sigh of relief. "Good," he whispered. "You're safe."

 

He opened the book, glanced in the front cover, and Harry saw something startling. A magical picture of Harry's mother. Had she given him the book, or had Snape simply decided to keep the picture in it? Harry tried to get a closer look.

 

Snape's fingers were running over the edges of the picture, it looked like it was stuck on the cover. In bright blue letters were the words: _To Sev, on your birthday January 9th, 1974. From Lily, because I know how much you like Quidditch._

 

Harry smiled. Snape liked Quidditch. It was an odd thought, but it made sense and he supposed that he'd noticed it was true. He'd simply never made the connection. He looked at Snape's face. There was such care for his mother there that it was difficult to look at.

 

One tear slipped out of his eye and he wiped it away. "I can't wait to get back to school Lily," he said. "I really can't."

 

"Severus!" a voice called from the bottom of the hill. Snape closed the book with a snap and looked down. A woman with black hair and deep eyes was smiling up at Snape.

 

"Dinner time Mum?" he asked, and she nodded. "Coming." He tucked the book under his arm and ran down the hill.

 

Harry followed after him, curious about his mum. When he thought about how Severus had acted with the bullies he had to wonder what his parents were like and how they would react to the beating he had obviously just gone through.

 

As he walked closer to his house, he was brushing off his clothes and hair, getting grass and mud off of himself. He reached for the door to the house and just before he touched the knob, the door flew open. A towering man stood in the frame, looking down at Snape.

 

"Severus! Get your lazy arse in here now! Your mum has been cooking for hours and you haven't done anything to help her!" A hand grabbed Snape by the collar and pulled him into the house roughly.

 

Harry slipped in, immediately hating this man.

 

"Sorry Dad," he heard Snape mutter as he walked inside. The house wasn't much different from it's current state outside of the memory. Many bookshelves, old furniture, the only real difference was that the kitchen and stairway up was not covered in any way. Evidently those shelves had been put in later.

 

"Tobias," Mrs. Snape said. "Don't be hard on Severus, he was just up the hill, and I didn't really need the help."

 

"He's supposed to be here, not outside showing off his freakish ways to the poor defenseless town!" Mr. Snape growled. "You could kill someone at any time. Go wash your face!" He smacked Snape on the back of the head, and the book fell from his hands.

 

"Sorry Dad," he said, reaching down to pick up the book. Unfortunately his father got it first.

 

"What's this?" he roared.

 

Harry felt his own heart lurch as the man got hold of the book. Maybe this man was part of the reason Snape could count those lashes aloud without crying out in pain. The bullies had been bad but this was a full grown man. Was he like Uncle Vernon? Could he be worse?

 

"It's nothing," Snape said desperately, reaching for the book. His father opened it and looked at the pages.

 

"You had this book out in the daylight? In town? Proof that you are a deviant!" His father's voice rose again and again until he was yelling, the house shaking with the sound of it. He kept the book out of Snape's reach, and he was jumping, trying to snatch it out of his father's hands.

 

"I'm sorry, but no one saw it, really father, no one saw it!"

 

"Tobias," Snape's mother said, coming out of the kitchen. "What's going on here?"

 

"Your son is reading magic books out on the hill," he said through clenched teeth. She turned a sad face at Snape. "He's going to learn that these things are unacceptable!" With a swift movement, the book was torn in two, pages flying around the room.

 

"NO!" Snape screamed, plucking paper and cover pieces out of the air, off the ground. A huge hand hit Snape, sending him flying towards the stairs.

 

"Severus!" Snape's mum said, moving towards him in a flash.

 

"No more freak show books outside! I've told you a hundred times boy, leave those books inside!" His father's voice boomed.

 

"I can't read them inside though, can I?" Snape yelled back, a dribble of blood slipping down his cheek. "You tell me to go outside, to get out of the house! How am I supposed to do my homework when you're telling me to leave, but I can't do my homework outside?" Snape's voice rang through the air and Harry could see his father's face go bright red.

 

Harry hated that moment. He felt it deeply. He knew exactly what this was like, not being allowed to do anything magic all summer. He had definitely lived this and to see that book harmed, knowing what it meant to Snape. It hurt.

 

"You NEVER talk back to me young man!" He was in front of Snape now, and Snape was staring him down. "Don't ever!"

 

"Tobias," his mum said, standing up and putting a hand on her husband's shoulder. He hit her, knocking her to the ground and all the way over towards the kitchen.

 

"Don't talk back to me woman! Don't you dare!" Snape was standing now, glaring at his father.

 

"You're too much of a coward," Snape said. "You can't find any other excuse to be angry with me, so you're going to invent one! If you want me to keep my stuff inside, fine! But I'm doing my homework, and you can't stop me." Defiance was wafting off of Snape, Harry could almost feel it.

 

He could also almost feel it when the fist connected with Snape's cheek. There was a crack, and Snape was flung into the stairs. He turned back to his father. "Is that all you've got? Going to beat your son until he's black and blue so when he goes outside people talk?" Another crack, another blow.

 

"You need to shut up boy, you need to shut your bloody mouth right now!"

 

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Snape's mum moving among the torn pages, picking them up, as quickly and as carefully as she could.

 

"Don't stop now, you haven't beaten me enough!" If Snape knew what his mum was doing, he made no move to show it. His attention was focused completely on the man, as the man was focused on him.

 

Yet Harry had a feeling that the fight was calculated. Snape wasn't the type to loose control. He'd just seen that on the hill with those boys. Even at this age he knew what he was doing when he did it. He had some purpose.

 

She was moving very carefully, her hands squirreling away the pages as his father advanced on him again.

 

"I said not to talk back to me!" he roared, backhanding his son again. "Never again!" Another hit, and this time blood sprayed across the wall. Snape's nose was bleeding freely.

 

He turned furious eyes on his father. "Do you think you can get away with that? Do you think you can?" He was backing up the stairs now, very slowly, one step at a time. "You're going to get caught, and when you do you're going to jail!"

 

"You despicable son of a snake! Don't you every speak to me about that. You think you can tell me what's going to happen to me? Do you think you can predict the future?" Even as he said it, Harry could hear the doubt and uncertainty in the man's voice. Maybe he did worry about predictions.

 

With a quick hand, Snape's mum was tucking the pages and cover of the book under the sofa. She seemed to be pressing them up into the springs or something.

 

Harry moved to look more closely at what she was doing. He could hear the sounds of Snape egging on his father, and the man reciprocating with more and more blows. As he peered under the couch, he could see that she was tucking the pages into a wooden box, which she closed and latched. He stood again and went up the stairs. He knew that Snape would be alright, but with his father getting angrier and angrier he had to wonder how.

 

Snapes mum stood, brushed herself off, and moved to the edge of the kitchen. "Dinner!" she called out loudly. "Tobias, come get the beer while it's still cold."

 

A moment of silence, then the man was moving down the stairs and right through Harry. "You should have said so earlier!" he growled.

 

Still on the stairs, Snape was wiping his face off. There were two large gashes in his lips and blood flowed freely from them as well as his nose. "I'll be down in a minute," he called, and blood splattered across his chin.

"Don't you dare get any blood on the carpet boy!" his dad called out.

 

"I won't!" he called back, inching his way down the hallway. He wasn't standing, and his leg looked twisted.

 

Harry watched Snape wondering how he was ever going to survive in that house. He did though. He had to.

 

Snape crawled to the bathroom, and as he did, the memory faded.

 

Harry extracted the memory and labeled it, his head aching. He set it to the side and stared at the vials. He was making a mistake. He needed to just do as Snape had told him and get rid of these. In the end of things hadn't Snape always been trying to help?

 

Harry put the pensieve back in it's box and closed it. Tomorrow he would gather all of the memories and destroy them just as Snape had asked. For tonight, Harry left the basement, turning off the light as he went. He closed it off and headed upstairs to Snape's room. It had a bed and he was tired. In the morning he would start cleaning things up. Maybe he would live here for a while. It was quiet and free. Besides it seemed like a pretty good place to think.


End file.
